


you exist in my spring

by iseekdaylight



Category: NCT (Band), NCT 127 - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Classical Music, Feelings Realization, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-02 18:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iseekdaylight/pseuds/iseekdaylight
Summary: Ever since his mother's death, Mark had stopped playing the piano and had started seeing the world in shades of gray.All that changed when he met Lee Donghyuck.Inspired by the anime/manga/live-action movie, Your Lie in April.Prompt #S043





	you exist in my spring

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This honestly would have been longer, but due to time restraints from work, I had to settle with this. I might consider continuing the fic to introduce other pairings and flesh out other character developments. 
> 
> For now, I hope you enjoy this fic! :)

Mark can’t remember the last time he had seen his world in full color.

Not literally. Fortunately, his vision is almost perfectly fine, except for the nearsightedness that has stayed with him all throughout childhood, all because of genetics. Nothing that glasses can’t solve.

Figuratively, Mark’s surroundings are monotone. Sometimes they come in shades of black and white, other times in gray. Sometimes soft hues would color his surroundings whenever he’s around his best friends, Jaemin and Lucas, but they were never loud, bright, cheery.

Until today.

He was on his way back to the apartment after his first class of basic psychology for the semester. Professor Shin Soohyun has a smile that would ease the worries of nervous freshmen, him included, and he let them out half an hour after the start of the class so they could familiarize themselves with the campus.

Then he hears it.

To the normal ear, the melody is simple, light, inconsequential. For Mark, it’s _[Sonata No. 17 by Mozart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLRW03pV3BE)_. The violinist is haphazard in their delivery, but there’s something charming about it, causing Mark’s chest to stir.

His feet move on their own, following the sound. When he stops, he finds the violinist standing under a large cherry blossom tree. A boy who looks around his age has his eyes closed, chin leaning against the chinrest as his bow flits over the strings, fingers nimble as he plays the notes. The gust of wind blows, cherry blossoms brushing past as the boy plays.

Colors swirl, painting his gray surroundings with bright, blinding, refreshing hues. Mark’s heart swells as he takes in the sight that looks something directly out of those romantic dramas Jaemin (and sometimes Lucas) likes to watch.

The boy, despite his haphazard playing style, looks beautiful. No, ethereal. His tan skin’s a stark contrast to the bright, spring day, making him shine and stand out. His lips tug up, eyes still closed, and Mark wishes he could take his phone and take a photo.

“Hyuck!”

And just like that, the boy stops playing. Mark’s legs are quick, and he breaks into a sprint, running out of the boy's sight as the world returns to gray.

It’s a Friday afternoon, and Jaemin decides that it would be a good idea to stop by the football field to watch Lucas practice. It’s definitely not Mark’s scene, and it never has been. It just so happens that his best friends are jocks (Jaemin’s in the baseball team), so it was sort of obligatory that he drops by practice now and then, even though Jaemin and Lucas don’t force him to.

Mark had always been indoors after school activities most of his childhood, so he doesn’t really mind the change of scenery. Besides, it’s entertaining to watch Lucas give a noogie to one of his teammates, a guy with a charming eye smile who glances at their direction now and then.

It would have been an uneventful day, watching the football team practice, but Jaemin suggests things to do for the weekend, and what he said had Mark doing a double take.

“Absolutely not!”

A double date. Some classmate of Jaemin’s in a general course has a crush on Lucas and had asked Jaemin to set him up. To lessen the awkwardness, said classmate asked Jaemin to tag along, and naturally, Jaemin doesn’t want to play the third wheel, so he’s asking Mark to come with him. As his date.

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “It’s not like we have to hold hands or anything,” he points out. “I just want to make sure my friend doesn’t feel nervous around Lucas, and I don’t want to invite someone else because that’ll be weird.”

Mark had never been on a date, and the mere thought causes his palms to sweat. “I-I can’t on Sunday. I have plans.”

His best friend snorts. “Like what? Burying yourself in the library?”

Mark scoffs at that, but he feels his face warm up. Jaemin’s … not wrong. His weekends are spent in the library or at home, devouring all kinds of books. Other times, he visits Johnny, a family friend, but he’s out for the week, on tour in Europe.

Which basically leaves him with no excuse.

“Come on, Mark.” Jaemin reaches for Mark’s hands, his own hands warm and comforting. “Think of it as just us hanging out like the usual. Only there’s one extra person.”

Jaemin’s pouting. Honest-to-god pouts. And for the past eighteen years they’ve been friends and neighbors, Mark can never resist the Na Jaemin Pout.

Mark feels his resolve slowly crumbling when Jaemin’s eyes soften, accentuating his seemingly desperate state. He sighs. “Fine. But you’re paying for everything.”

“Of course!” Jaemin beams, smile bright that Mark could have sworn Lucas’ teammate threw his gaze at their direction for what feels like the nth time. “We all know who wears the pants in our relationship.”

Mark curses his lack of athletic ability when Jaemin dodges his kick to the shin.

Mark would have wanted to call in sick that Sunday, but he knows it would be impossible for Jaemin and Lucas to buy his excuse. That, and Jaemin lives on the same floor in the apartment complex they share with students from their campus and nearby universities. Jaemin, for some reason, knows his passcode, and he practically drags Mark out of the bed, choosing an outfit for him as Mark preps in the bathroom.

They wait for Lucas at the lobby of the apartment, since the older one of them chose to live at the athletes’ dorm on campus. He’s a little more dressed up than his usual T-shirt and jeans, opting for a sweater and khaki pants. He’s beaming and fidgeting, clearly excited about the day.

“Where are we meeting him?” Lucas asks as they step out of the apartment.

“Donghyuck says we’ll meet him at the café of this guest house,” Jaemin announces. “That’s where he lives.”

_Donghyuck?_ Mark blinks. The name “Hyuck” echoes in his head as he follows Jaemin and Lucas out of the apartment complex. That could be some coincidence, right? It’s probably not the same boy he had encountered before …

Jaemin leads the way as they walk out of the campus and into the city. It’s Sunday, and the streets are already full of all kinds of people making the most of the weekend.

Jaemin stops in front of a two-story building, its wooden exteriors painted in stripes of color. There’s a black speech bubble by the door, and Mark raises an eyebrow as he reads the sign: “Dream Launch Guest House in Seoul.”

The lobby is as cozy as Mark imagines guest houses would be. The walls are brick, the floor a smooth timber. A black couch, a white couch, and a few colored bean bags are scattered around a black coffee table that’s on top of an animal-printed rug. Sunlight streams from the large windows that give them a good view of the passersby.

There’s a man by the reception desk, chin tucked on one hand while his other hand clutches his phone. He looks up at them at the sound of door chimes, and he stands up straight, smile blindingly bright. “Good morning!” he greets. “I’m Ten. How can I help you?”

“We’re waiting for a friend,” Jaemin replies, smile equally bright. “His name is Donghyuck.”

Ten blinks then grins. “Ah, Hyuckie? Yeah, he’s expecting someone. You can head straight to the café. Just pass by that door over there.”

Mark’s head starts spinning. _Hyuckie?_

“Alright there, Mark?” Lucas’ hand on his shoulder and his gentle smile send Mark back to reality.

The café, named Full Sun Café, is simpler than the guest house lobby, but its atmosphere is inviting, nonetheless. Bricks and artwork line one wall, while the other wall, the side where the bar is, is covered with white tiles. The café is already occupied by a few customers—a middle-aged couple, a couple of old women, and two little girls sitting next to a piano.

Mark quickly looks away in favor of looking at the man approaching them. His expression is gentler, in contrast to the brightness of the one manning the reception.

“Welcome to Full Sun Café. How may I help you?” The name tag on the man’s shirt reads “Kun.”

“We’re waiting for Donghyuck,” Jaemin answers for them.

“Oh!” Kun’s grin widens. “Sure, have a seat. Hyuck’s supposed to be down in a mom—”

“Sorry, I’m late!”

The door to the café from the lobby swings open, and a boy steps in. Mark’s breath hitches as he recognizes Donghyuck. Hyuckie. _Hyuck._

It’s not an ethereal setting like the one in the campus park, and Donghyuck is wearing a denim jacket over a white shirt and black ripped jeans. For Mark, though, he’s breathtaking, nonetheless.

“Hey,” Donghyuck greets, grinning. “Found your way just fine, Nana?”

“Got ol’ Google Maps to show me the way,” Jaemin chuckles, stepping forward to hug Donghyuck. “Anyway”—He spins to face Mark and Lucas while his arm is around Donghyuck’s shoulders—“This is my best friend, Mark.”

Donghyuck’s smile never falters, his head tilting in a slight bow. “Hi.”

Mark’s heartbeat goes on overdrive, and he feels that he grimaced more than smiled in return.

“And this”—Jaemin has his shit-eating grin now as he spins Donghyuck to the side, almost pushing him forward—“is your date, Lucas.”

There’s no missing the way Lucas’ face brightens, the same way whenever someone catches his eye, making him want to ask someone out on a date. It’s clear that he’s already attracted to Donghyuck, and they’ve only met for less than a minute.

“Nice to meet you.” Lucas holds out his hand, which Donghyuck shakes.

And Donghyuck chuckles, pink tinting his tanned skin. “You, too.”

Kun arranges a table for them and serves them their best-selling appetizers. “On us,” he says before heading to another table to take orders.

“So, Donghyuck,” Lucas says once they’ve settled down. “Jaemin told me you’re a violinist.”

Mark chokes on his drink, remembering that day at the park, when the colors were bright and swirling. Jaemin laughs at him before patting him on the back.

Donghyuck looks at him with concern until he’s fully recovered, then answers Lucas’ question. “Yeah,” he says, sipping his iced tea. “I’m in the College of Music.”

“That’s so cool!” Lucas exclaims, face brightening. “I’ve always been fascinated by violinists.” He glances at Mark and grins sheepishly. “I mean, pianists are cool, too …”

Mark hides his snort as he takes a bite off his cheesecake.

“Didn’t think you’d like classical music, jock.” Donghyuck’s eyes twinkle, tucking his chin on one hand.

“Hey!” Lucas pouts, hand clutching his chest. “I refuse to be part of a stereotype. I only know the famous composers, and I appreciate classical music when I hear them play.”

Donghyuck hums. “Guess you have my respect, then.”

Mark startles when Jaemin suddenly leans against him. A hand is covering his mouth, but he could tell that he’s grinning. “They’re getting along so well,” he half-whispers, half-coos.

That was the plan, wasn’t it—to get Donghyuck and Lucas together? It was clearly working, with Donghyuck laughing at Lucas’ jokes and the way Lucas would look at Donghyuck like Mark and Jaemin don’t exist.

Mark should be happy, but instead, he’s met with sickening twists in his stomach.

He ignores it because it’s his first time hanging out with someone other than Jaemin and Lucas. He’s only (technically) met Donghyuck for thirty minutes, but he’s concluded that he’s nice to be around with. He can keep up with Jaemin’s banter, laugh at anything Lucas says, and he has interesting stories to tell about his childhood and his schoolwork.

He pays attention to Mark as well. Mark isn’t one for conversation, unlike his two extrovert friends, and he doesn’t mind retreating to the background. Donghyuck, though, brings him to the conversation without forcing him to. It feels nice, for a change.

They are interrupted in their conversation when they hear music that could only come from a piano. _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_. Badly played, Mark might add. Then again—he realizes when he looks over its shoulder—it’s those two girls on the piano, trying to outperform each other.

Jaemin chuckles. “Remember when I would mess around with you in our first week of piano lessons?”

Oh, Mark definitely remembers. “You thought it was a good idea to play ‘Happy Birthday’ in the middle of my playing Chopin.”

“Mark here plays the piano,” Lucas offers.

“You do?” Donghyuck asks, head tilted to the side.

“He does!” Lucas says before Mark could reply. “When we became friends, he was a genius! He plays these complicated pieces, and people call him the Human Retronym!”

The girls have stopped playing the piano and are looking at Mark expectantly as if they had just overheard their conversation. “Oppa!” one of them says. “Please teach us how to play _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_!”

Everyone’s eyes are now on him. Mark’s skin prickles and his palms sweat. He doesn’t want to, but now everyone in the café is expecting him to head up to the piano bench and play. If he turns it down, everyone would be disappointed.

He sighs and gets up, the girls making space for him on the bench. Mark stares at the keys of the piano, trying to remember the notes for the song. It comes to him quickly, a result of more than a decade’s worth of playing.

“You played some of the notes right,” Mark begins, chuckling when the girls squeeze next to him. “But this is how you play it.”

The notes are repetitive and very easy to remember. Mark recalls this song being the first he managed to play in its entirety, a simple but effective way to lull him to sleep.

_“There’s a way to make you less sleepy while you play,” his mother had told him. Mark had made room for her on the bench, her nimble fingers pressing the keys that, indeed, changed the entire melody._

The girls giggle as he changes his playing style, and he can’t resist smiling, too, until he finishes the song. His face warms when he hears soft applause echoing the café.

“Again, oppa!” one of the girls squeals. “Play us something else!”

This time, dread fills up, slowly choking him. Colors swirl back to monotone, and Mark’s nails dig into his palm. One song is enough, but another …

“Sorry, kids.” He feels Jaemin’s hands on his shoulders, and Mark instantly relaxes. “We kinda need to go.”

“But—”

“Give it up, you two, they have to leave,” one of the middle-aged women says, standing up. She smiles at Mark. “That was wonderful, dear.”

Mark’s smile is tight as he says his thanks, watching the women and the girls return to their seats. When he gets up, Lucas and Donghyuck have already stood from their seats, ready to leave.

“You okay?” Jaemin asks, giving Mark’s hand a gentle squeeze.

He isn’t, but he will be, he guesses. “Yeah,” he says, tightening his grip on Jaemin as they head back to their friends.

He catches Donghyuck looking at his and Jaemin’s entwined hands, but he’s quick to look away when Lucas asks for his attention.

The rest of the date goes well. They leave the café to walk around the shopping district. Lucas ends up buying matching bracelets, which he shares with Donghyuck.

The last time Lucas had bought a matching accessory for a date, Yuqi, was back in their second year of high school. And Lucas had taken a month before doing so. So Lucas must really, really like Donghyuck.

The sun is setting when they walk Donghyuck back to the guest house. “I had fun today,” Donghyuck says with a grin. “We should do this again, sometime.”

“Like, a second date?” Lucas asks expectantly.

“And are Mark and I invited?” Jaemin chuckles, slipping his arm around Mark’s shoulders.

Donghyuck laughs. “Yes, a second date,” he tells Lucas, before turning to him and Jaemin. “And I don’t really mind if you two tag along. I do have a set date, though.”

“Oh?” Lucas blinks. “When and where?”

Donghyuck’s grin widens. “I’m competing in a violin competition in two weeks. Can you guys come and cheer for me?”

Night has passed by the time they dropped off Donghyuck at the guest house. “So,” Jaemin speaks up once they’ve walked a good distance away from Dream Launch, “what’s your verdict?”

Lucas has a wide grin on his face, his gaze focused on his newly bought bracelet. “I like him,” he says.

“Like, as in enough to finally make you settle down with a boyfriend?”

The taller one shrugs. “Too early to tell,” he says. “But hey, if things don’t work out between us, I’m fine with us being friends.”

“That’s what you’ve been literally saying since high school,” Jaemin groans. “I honestly thought Yuqi had a chance back then, but I was dead wrong.” He freezes in his tracks and faces Lucas. “You better take care of Hyuckie. He’s a good friend of mine, and I’ll end you if you hurt him.”

“Dude, I’ve never forgotten that time when you killed me for leaving Mark at the zoo when we were supposed to be field trip buddies.” Lucas shudders. “Makes me wonder why you two aren’t a thing yet.”

Mark almost stumbles, his face heating up. “You wondered _what_?” he exclaims just as Jaemin practically screams the same thing.

Lucas cackles, looking vindicated after being threatened by Jaemin. “Oh, come on. Neighbors, childhood friends, saying the same things at the same time? That screams couple material!”

“Literally how many dramas did you watch to come to that conclusion?” Jaemin kicks Lucas on the shin, but not harsh enough to send the taller one yelping. “Mark here”—he throws an arm around Mark’s shoulders—”is a brother to me. A very cute but clumsy brother—”

“Gee, way to build my confidence, Jaemin.” Mark rolls his eyes, pushing his glasses up, though he’s also grinning. Having grown up with Jaemin, he knows he can’t see him as anything else other than a best friend.

“Anyway,” Lucas continues once they’ve crossed the other side of the street, “Mark, you don’t have to watch the competition if it makes you uncomfortable.”

They finally reached that subject. Mark wishes they didn’t, or maybe they could have delayed it for later. “When the kids asked me to play again, I got scared,” he says slowly.

“That’s because you haven’t touched the piano in two years.” Jaemin pulls him closer. “But how did you feel when you were playing?”

Mark recalls that moment when his fingers first touched the keys. It was only for a few minutes, but he remembers warmth so familiar that it felt like coming home, and the light hues that colored the room. “I missed it,” Mark says, the realization coming to him just as he says those words. But then he also remembers the dread that followed when the girls asked him to play again. “But …”

“Look, I know Donghyuck wants you to go, but if you feel like you’re not ready yet, you don’t have to. I’ll just tell him you have this thing you can’t miss, or something.” Lucas stops before an overpass, the one leading to the entrance of the campus. “Well, my stop. See you guys tomorrow?”

“At my baseball practice, okay?” He and Jaemin wave Lucas goodbye before they make their way to the apartment complex.

The walk back is comfortably quiet, as always. Jaemin is the more talkative one out of the two of them, but Mark appreciates they could spend time together in silence, too. It’s also nice to take in his surroundings—the cherry blossom trees are still in full bloom.

“When’s Johnny hyung coming home?” Jaemin asks, breaking the silence.

“Next week,” Mark says, a smile spreading to his face as he remembers his guardian. “But I’m not gonna move in until the next two weeks because he wants the place to himself for a bit. I miss him, though.”

“I’m sure. He’s practically your dad, though no offense to your actual dad.” Jaemin chuckles. “I miss Uncle, though. Is there a day that he’ll stop jet setting around the world for work?”

Mark sighs. His father is almost always out of the country for work, leaving him at home by himself. Sometimes he would sleep over at Jaemin’s, since his parents insist, so he practically spent most of the past few years at Jaemin’s than his own home.

“I missed it,” he says. “Playing the piano, I mean.”

Jaemin hums, hands on the back of his head. “I mean, you could have told the kids you stopped playing, but you didn’t,” he points out.

“I did, didn’t I?” Mark chuckles, realizing Jaemin’s right. (He usually is.) “It was the easiest piece on the planet, and playing it felt like coming home. I just …” He shrugs. “I don’t know if I’m ready to compete again, though.”

“You don’t have to,” Jaemin says. “Just do what you’re comfortable doing at the moment.” He kicks a stray pebble in front of him as they turn a corner. “I’d give a lot to have genius pianist Mark Lee again, but I want to see him doing what he loves happily, you know?”

He feels a lump in his throat forming. He had spent the past few years seeing monotone, and he’s tired of it. He wants to see the world in full color again.

“Maybe …” he starts, making up his mind, “I’ll start by watching Donghyuck play.”

Jaemin beams at him, brighter than the dimming sky.

It’s been a while since Mark had last stepped foot on Seoul Arts Center’s music hall. Before, he would walk along these halls like it was his second home. It’s amazing how two years could change his view of the familiar scene before him.

“Is that Mark Lee?”

“Mark Lee, the piano genius?”

“Didn’t he, like, disappear from the scene years ago?”

Lucas and Jaemin’s hands on the small of his back are light and comforting, a stark contrast to the glares they’re giving to the people staring. “You want me to tell them off?” Lucas asks.

Mark catches the eye of two girls staring at him, who blush and promptly look away. He sighs and shakes his head. “Ignore them,” he says. He looks down, realizing that SAC had renovated the flooring.

The concert hall is halfway packed when they enter. Mark accepts a program guide from one of the ushers, and they make their way to the center section of the music hall.

It feels new to be sitting among the audience and not on the piano bench at the stage. Sure, Mark has had his share of being part of the audience—whenever his mother, Johnny, or Taeyong would have a show—but he’s mostly at front, aiming to play to perfection.

“Is this, like, similar to piano competitions?” Lucas asks, flipping through the program guide before setting it on his lap.

“Yeah,” Jaemin says with a nod. “You play the same piece as everyone else’s, only this time you have a piano accompaniment. When you move to the next round, you can choose any piece to play.”

Lucas nods. “Okay,” he says. “If I doze off, someone please hit me on the head.”

“With pleasure,” Jaemin snickers.

Mark flips through the program guide and finds a profile of all the contestants. He scans each of the contestants until he finally finds what he’s looking for. Donghyuck’s photo is his high school graduation picture, facial expression sterner, perhaps because it’s a formal photo. The write-up is short, describing that Donghyuck had switched from piano to violin when he was five years old. Then, there’s a short list of the competitions he has participated, which were a few local ones.

The competition begins with the host announcing the piece. Mark’s eyes widen when he hears it’s the [First Movement of Beethoven’s _Kreutzer Sonata_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okWr-tzwOEg). Not only is it a technically challenging piece, but there’s also a level of emotion required to execute it well.

Mark remembers how Donghyuck’s playing style is haphazard, based on what he had heard in the park before. It’s too soon to judge, so he hopes Donghyuck comes to this competition prepared.

After the house rules, the contestants arrive on stage with their piano accompanist. There were twenty of them, and they have fourteen minutes to impress the judges and the audience.

Lucas nods off by the fifth contestant, and Jaemin’s attention shifts to whatever Wikipedia article he’s reading at the moment. Mark has been honed all his life to listen to the same piece for hours on end, but even he has to admit that the competition is boring him so far.

He hears Lucas grunt after a contestant has left the stage. “It’s Hyuckie’s turn!” Jaemin hisses, sitting up straight and tucking his phone in his pocket.

The crowd claps as Donghyuck and his accompanist—a girl whose high ponytail is tied in a red bow—step out. The two bow before the girl takes her place on the piano, and Donghyuck remains at the center. His hair is slicked up, suit simple but appropriate for the event. His expression is somber, eyes are closed as he takes a few seconds to prepare before his performance.

Finally, he places his chin on the chinrest. The accompanist plays the main note, and Donghyuck lifts his bow and starts to play.

Like everyone else’s execution, Donghyuck begins with the slow introduction. So far, so good. He manages to hold the key, but it’s the rest of the performance that will dictate his results in the competition.

The accompanist plays her part, and Donghyuck continues the slow but careful pace, as the piece dictates. Mark holds his breath, braces himself for the next part, the most intense and technically difficult parts of the piece.

He doesn’t miss the slight tug of the lips from the violinist before the harmony turns darker.

Gasps elicit throughout the concert hall as Donghyuck continues to play. The tempo and dynamics are all over the place, Donghyuck seemingly ignoring the pianist and going off on his own while the accompanist tries to catch up.

It’s an insult to the piece, Mark thinks, the way he could see the shoulders of the judges tense. Donghyuck might as well be picking a fight with the composer with that kind of playing style.

Yet, out of all the contestants, it’s Donghyuck that sends most of the audience, Mark included, leaning forward, drawn to the music. The complexities and the emotions involved in Kreutzer’s Sonata are still there, but this piece is no longer Beethoven’s.

It’s as if Lee Donghyuck owns this piece.

He didn’t realize that the piece is over until Donghyuck raises his bow, and the pianist stops playing.

There are a few seconds of silence before the audience erupts in cheers, the loudest in the music hall.

Donghyuck opens his eyes, and his smile is as bright as the spotlight shining on him. Mark’s heart leaps, and he stands up to cheer with the rest of the audience.

Donghyuck doesn’t win or even place in the Top 10. But he does move up the preliminaries and wins Audience Favorite.

He’s beaming when he walks toward their direction at the lobby. He gets delayed by people talking to him, probably expressing how they loved his performance with the way Donghyuck blushes.

“Hyuckie!” Lucas exclaims, rushing toward Donghyuck when he’s nearing their direction. He picks up Donghyuck, the other one giggling as he’s spun around, grip tight on his violin case. “That was so awesome!”

“Thank you, now put me down, Lucas!” Donghyuck’s still giggling when he was placed down, cheeks flushed and hands holding on to Lucas’ arms for balance.

“Too bad you didn’t win, though,” Jaemin says with a pout. “Everyone in the audience agreed you deserved to at least be Top 5 material.”

Donghyuck shrugs. “It’s okay,” he says. “At least I’m still in the second round.” He looks at Mark expectantly. “What do you think of my performance, Mark?”

Mark’s face heats up as Jaemin and Lucas also look at him. Of course. Jaemin and Lucas may fawn over his performance, but his opinion still matters to Donghyuck. From one musician to another. “It’s …” he begins. “It’s not the performance I was expecting, but it was great.”

It’s difficult to explain what he feels, how Donghyuck’s performance, though imperfect, stirs something in him, colors bursting, hypnotizing. For now, he thinks that’s enough.

And he thinks it’s worth it when Donghyuck beams.

The College of Music is a different league from the College of Social Sciences.

From the exterior, it looks like any other building on campus—red brick and long, large windows. The difference, though, is that the College of Music looks like it has been around for decades, maybe centuries, with the way that it’s constructed like a castle. And with the building being situated at the farthest side of the campus, surrounded by large trees, Mark feels like he’s entering a magical place rather than a part of an educational institution.

After much asking, while ignoring the stares of people around him, he manages to find the faculty room. Unlike the exterior, the inside of the faculty room looks more contemporary, more inviting—white walls with mahogany cabinets and lime green couch with sari-like detail on the cushions. The room is quiet, and Mark couldn’t see how many faculty members are present, with how mahogany cubicles separate them and shield them from people who step inside. Mark recognizes Telemann’s _Viola Concerto in G Major_ playing in the speakers.

He approaches the receptionist at the front desk. “Good morning,” he greets. “Is Professor Lee Taeyong around?”

The receptionist smiles. “Yes, he’s in the fourth booth at the third row of desks.”

“Thank you.” He hasn’t seen Lee Taeyong in weeks. The professor of the College of Music was one of Mark’s early teachers, and he had kept in touch with Taeyong even when he stopped playing. The last time they had caught up with each other was when Mark moved to his apartment and Taeyong decided to help while Johnny was in Europe and his father was abroad.

The Lee Taeyong hunched over his desk, scribbling through stacks of papers, is as beautiful as Mark had last remembered. His hair is a light shade of pink, jaw still sharp and features still doll-like. Mark remembers not being able to look away at Taeyong’s face despite being sternly instructed to look at the older one’s fingers as he was taught the notes to Rachmaninoff’s _Piano Concerto No. 2_.

Taeyong’s beauty still catches him off guard, but this time, Mark has enough sense to clear his throat and not stare for too long. “Hyung?” he speaks up, almost muffled by the music playing in the room.

Taeyong looks up and turns his head to his direction. It’s amusing to see how his eyes widen, hips bumping on his desk as he stands up too quickly. “Mark!” he gasps, moving forward to hug him. “Long time no see!”

“That’s okay, I was busy attending to my students, too.” Taeyong grins and pats his cheek. “What brings you here?”

Mark scratches the back of his head. It was easier to ask Taeyong in theory, but now … He sighs and decides to go for it. “I actually want to ask if I can book a practice room?” he asks.

Taeyong’s eyes widen once more, his jaw dropping slightly. “A practice room?” he repeats.

“I-I wanna try playing again.”

The silence that followed felt excruciatingly long. It looked like it sort of took a while before Mark’s words registered on Taeyong, and when it did, his “Oh” was loud that several heads turned toward their direction. Taeyong looks over his shoulder and tilts his head forward in apology before turning back to Mark, his face red. “How long will you be playing?” he asks.

“Maybe every Thursday, at five pm?” Mark suggests. “It’s my freest time, but I’m just concerned that the practice rooms are probably full.”

Taeyong hums before motioning for Mark to sit down on the chair that he hadn’t noticed until now. He opens his laptop and starts typing something. After a few seconds, he says, “You’re right, slots for practice rooms are still pretty competitive on Thursdays and Fridays.” A smile creeps to his lips. “But I think I can arrange something.”

“You can?” Mark blinks.

A smile turns into a smirk. “Well, you’re kind of looking at the next Assistant Director for the College of Music.”

His eyes widen. “Oh my god?” It’s a miracle that he didn’t scream, lest get judged by everyone around them right now. “That’s amazing, hyung!”

Taeyong looks at him fondly. “So that means I have more leeway now to get you a practice room when you need it.” He winks.

Mark’s face flushes. “I don’t know if I’m gonna be fully back,” he says. “I just wanna try playing again.”

“That’s fine.” Taeyong reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Personally, I’m happy if you come back, but that’ll still be up to you.”

“Really?” Mark raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Last time we were together, you were making not-so subtle comments about you wanting me to come back.”

“Hey!” Taeyong laughs and hits him on the arm.

“Sir?”

Taeyong looks up and pulls his hand away from Mark’s. “Oh, Donghyuck!”

_Donghyuck?_ Mark looks over his shoulder and, sure enough, Donghyuck is standing by the cubicle. His eyebrows are raised, and he has most likely witnessed Taeyong’s hand holding his, which, if you place out of context, is bound to get Taeyong into trouble.

Donghyuck, though, didn’t point it out. He fishes out a paper from a folder tucked in his arm and hands it to Taeyong. “My essay from last week’s lecture,” he says. “I was actually about to ask a couple of quick questions, but—”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll go.” Mark stands up too quickly that he knocks his chair to the ground. “Sorry!” His face flames up as he feels everyone’s eyes on him, and he quickly puts the chair back up before hastily saying goodbye to Taeyong and pushing past Donghyuck.

It’s when he’s halfway out of the building when he realizes that he had left his phone on Taeyong’s desk.

“Hey.”

Mark yelps when a hand touches his shoulder, and he spins around to see Donghyuck standing in front of him. The side of his lips his tugged up, and he’s holding out Mark’s phone. “You left this.”

“T-Thanks.” Mark takes his phone and stuffs it in his pocket. “I-It’s not what you think … Taeyong hyung and me.”

Donghyuck laughs. “Don’t worry, I don’t think like that,” he says, adjusting the bag strap on his shoulder. “Everyone in this building knows Sir Lee Taeyong is a family friend of yours.”

Mark blinks. He was very sure that he didn’t tell Donghyuck about his family, and he knows Jaemin and Lucas never divulge that information. “H-How did you know?” he asks.

Donghyuck’s cheeks flush pink, which Mark would have found adorable if he hadn’t been seeking questions. “Are you free today?” he asks.

“What?”

“Nah, who am I kidding? You’re coming with me!” Without warning, Donghyuck grabs Mark by the wrist and drags him out of the building.

This is how Mark finds himself and Donghyuck in the campus park. Donghyuck had bought them bubble tea from one of the food stalls in an ongoing club recruitment event by the quad, insisting that he’s paying.

“Is this okay with Lucas?” Mark asks as Donghyuck stabs his straw on the cup too forcefully. The drink spills a little, but Donghyuck doesn’t mind as he takes a sip.

“He’s fine.” Donghyuck’s gaze is fixed on the tree across them. “He has football practice, anyway.”

Mark knows that. “Not into sports?”

Donghyuck’s face scrunches and shakes his head.

“Me either.” Mark chuckles. “Weird how I’m friends with two athletes, huh?”

“At least you have really good friends.” Donghyuck smiles at that. “It’s kind of hard for a music nerd to be making friends outside your circle, you know?”

Mark understands that very well. Even now, it’s still difficult for him to interact with other people outside the music scene, outside Lucas and Jaemin. Even when he was still a musician, he stuck to hanging out with adults, mostly Johnny and Taeyong.

He remembers why they’re here in the first place. “You knew who I was all along.”

Donghyuck sighs and takes another sip of his bubble tea. “Mark Lee, the Human Metronome. You were the role model of all the Korean musicians of our generation. It’s kind of hard _not_ to recognize you.” His cheeks are a tinge of pink as he meets Mark’s eyes. “I watched you when I was six in the Chuseok gala. You were struggling to get on the bench and everyone laughed.”

Mark remembers that. It was the first time he had played Bach’s _[Prelude to the Well-Tempered Clavichord](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9IenDRFH9FA)_, one of his favorite pieces up to this day.

“You were the reason I switched from the piano to the violin.” Donghyuck blushes full-on red. “I wanted to work hard and be someone worthy of standing on the same stage with you. When I saw you and Lucas seeing Jaemin off to class, I thought this could be my chance to, you know, probably ask to accompany me during the competition.”

“You used Lucas to get to me?” Mark’s eyes widen. Something bubbles inside him, an awareness that he doesn’t like the fact that someone used his best friend to get his attention.

“That was my initial plan, but!” Donghyuck looks like a kicked puppy. “I really enjoyed hanging out with him on our date, and I was sincere when I told him I’d like to go out on another date. Even if we aren’t exclusive.”

Mark narrows his eyes. “If you hurt Lucas, Jaemin and I aren’t gonna be so happy,” he warns.

“Dude, I love my life too much to earn the wrath of Na Jaemin.”

Mark laughs despite himself because he wholeheartedly agrees. “The last time Jaemin got mad at me was when I locked myself in my room for an entire week.” He suddenly feels his chest tighten. “That was the week after my mom died.”

He didn’t mean to bring it up, but when it does, there’s a maelstrom of emotions that overcome him, blurring his vision and making it difficult for him to talk. He remembers gray shades turning to complete darkness as he stands beside his mother, watching the heart monitor and the long, horizontal line that never seems to end.

Then, he remembers regret, of blood boiling and fists clenching, cheek red as he fumes in front of his mother three days before that dreaded day, of her sitting in the wheelchair and face flushed in anger and eyes wide in surprise.

A hand on top of his brings him back to the ground, and Mark takes a few minutes to take deep breaths and calm down.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Donghyuck says quietly. “Is that why you stopped playing?”

“Among other reasons.” Mark takes a deep breath to calm his rapid heartbeat. “I’ve been playing the piano my whole life, and I wanted to live like a normal kid. I’m trying to play again, but I don’t think I’m ready to compete again.”

Donghyuck nods, his lips in a tight smile. “Totally understandable.”

Mark’s shoulders relax, and for once in a long time, he feels a little okay. “Sorry for that emotional unloading,” he says. “We’ve only known each other for two weeks.”

“Nah, that’s fine.” Donghyuck grins. “They say that it’s more cathartic to confide in a complete stranger or acquaintance. That way, you won’t get judged harshly.”

They spend the rest of the afternoon in silence, finishing their bubble tea while they watch the people at the park. It’s still chilly, and it’s the perfect time to play Frisbee or take a stroll. Mark remembers the spot where he saw Donghyuck playing, and he felt the compelling urge to tell him that much.

So he tells him, and Donghyuck’s eyes widen, his face turning red. “You should have told me!” he exclaims so loudly that passersby stare at their direction.

And Mark laughs at that, his chest light and fuzzy.

The practice room at the College of Music is perfect for any musician who wants full concentration on their practice. Timber flooring, walls and ceilings make the room soundproof and lessen the echo of the sound, allowing him to pinpoint any inaccuracies as he plays. Mark turns over the card by the door from “Open” to “Occupied,” giving him the privacy he needs.

Mark sighs as he runs a hand through the top of the piano, savoring the cold sensation of metal against his skin. His mother had told him it’s a way of paying respect to the musical instrument because he’ll be sitting down on that bench for hours.

He didn’t bring any sheet music with him. He didn’t know what to play, and he just wants to be familiar with the setting again. Besides, if a song comes to mind, he can recall the notes from memory.

That’s why he’s called The Human Metronome, after all.

His fingers graze the keys, one pressing on C, then on D, E. C, E, C, E. Mark chuckles as he automatically plays “Do Re Mi.” It’s not a classical song, but one of the first songs he had learned to play as a child.

He remembers sitting on his mother’s lap as she patiently teaches him how to play each note. Back then, she wasn’t in a wheelchair. Her skin was glowing, her fingers agile, her smile kind.

Mark’s fingers still on the keys as he closes his eyes, trying to ease his breathing. He doesn’t want to think of that day.

It’s only been five minutes, maybe less, but he decides to call it a day.

When he steps out of the practice room, he comes face to face with Donghyuck. He’s wearing a gray hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans, grip on one hand on his violin case, and another tight on his backpack strap.

“Hey,” Mark greets. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Donghyuck is practicing for a competition and is a student at the College of Music. “Practice?”

Donghyuck nods. “How about you? Trying to get back in the habit?”

“Something like that.” Mark rubs the back of his head. “I’m about to head out, though.”

He was expecting Donghyuck to mention that he’s heading inside the practice room. Instead, he asks, “Do you wanna stay for a bit? Watch me play?”

His eyes widen. “Um … would your accompanist mind?”

Donghyuck’s face turns beet red. “She’s running late. So.”

Well, Mark has nothing else better to do. Jaemin’s at baseball practice, and Lucas has a date with some engineering sophomore. So he nods.

The room looks similar to the one Mark had been in. There’s no chair in sight, so he sits on the piano bench and watches Donghyuck set down his violin case, gingerly opening it to take out his violin. “You get to choose the piece this time, right?” he asks. “What’s your chosen piece?”

“_[Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZLlQnI_pJE)_. Saint-Saëns.”

Mark tries to remember the notes of the piece, and he does. A duet and conversation between the pianist and violinist. To be sure, he lifts the handle of the keyboard plays the notes he could remember, and when he does, he sees Donghyuck’s eyebrow raised. “What?”

“You played the notes from memory? Damn, no wonder you’re called The Human Metronome.”

He’s pretty much acknowledged that for years, but hearing it from Donghyuck somehow sends Mark’s face flushed red. “Aren’t you gonna start playing?” he asks.

“Right, but you have to give me a key first,” Donghyuck says, resting his chin on his chinrest, bow ready.

“Right.” Because Donghyuck’s accompanist isn’t here at the moment, Mark has to give him the key for now. He recalls the opening note of the piece and presses the corresponding key, A minor.

He catches Donghyuck smiling, lowering his bow to play the opening notes. Mark mentally shakes his head and clears his mind as he starts to play the opening notes for the piano, at least in his head.

As expected, Donghyuck’s plays haphazardly, without a care of the technique. He chose a piece that matches his personality—dynamic and colorful like fireworks in a summer festival. Mark could only imagine how the accompanist would keep up with his energy.

Donghyuck’s eyes are closed, giving Mark the opportunity to observe him without getting a funny look. A smirk is still plastered on his face, arm holding the bow frenziedly going back and forth as he strikes the chords. It’s different from the Donghyuck he had seen playing at the park that spring day. His eyebrows are furrowed, concentrated on the piece as if it’s competition day.

Finally, Donghyuck finishes, raising his bow up as a sign that it’s the end of his performance. His chest is heaving as he opens his eyes, then he looks at Mark expectantly. “What do you think?” he asks.

He loves it, Mark is sure of that. But the technique … “I love it,” he admits. “But I’m just concerned that the judges won’t like your technique.”

Mark was expecting Donghyuck to feel offended, but he’s met with a disinterested shrug. “I get that a lot,” he says. “Did you know one of the judges came up to me after the competition, saying I was a disgrace to classical music?” He snorts. “Pretty sure I’m not getting good points from him.”

“Wait.” Mark stands up. “You mean you don’t really care if you get low marks for not following the technique? Don’t you want to win?”

“Winning would be nice.” Donghyuck grins. “I just wanted to have fun, you know? While being surrounded by amazing musicians. And bonus points if the audience loves my performance.”

Mark blinks and stares at Donghyuck as if he had grown horns. Young musicians join competitions for many reasons: to win the prize money, to earn the respect of peers, to hone their skills. Having fun is not one of them. “Why?”

It’s Donghyuck’s turn to blink. “Because I love playing the violin?” he answers as if he was talking about the weather.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Yeah, but everyone’s trying to be perfect, so it’s not fun anymore.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “I want to have fun, then work on my performance if the audience doesn’t like it.”

Mark was never trained that way. He was to play _perfectly_, down to the last note. That was how the audience enjoyed a classical music performance. But Lee Donghyuck is tearing down all the thoughts he grew up with about performing.

“You don’t have to agree with me,” Donghyuck says, smiling softly. “I just love playing the violin so much. I’d gladly give up everything to play.” His eyes look glassy, but he shakes them away. “Anyway, I should get back to practicing.”

Soon enough, the door opens, and Eunbin, Donghyuck’s accompanist, comes in. Mark takes it as a cue to leave.

Johnny’s apartment is located in one of the high-end subdivisions of Gangnam. He had just recently moved there, so Mark had taken some time to figure out how to get there from campus. Fortunately, it isn’t far off, and Mark can take his time walking to the destination.

Since he was a kid, Mark thinks it’s unfair to be standing next to Johnny. He’s wearing a simple sweater and jeans, but he still looks as dashing as ever. It’s probably strange for Mark to be thinking this way, especially since Johnny, being close friends with his mother since college, has watched over him since he was in diapers.

Johnny’s eyes crinkle as he smiles when he opens his door to find Mark standing outside. “Hey, kiddo,” he says, throwing himself forward to give Mark a one-armed hug. “You look good. College treating you well?”

“Guess so.” Mark grins, closing the door behind him. He makes a sound of amazement as he takes in everything, light gray walls to the wide open layout. “This place looks amazing.”

“Right?” Johnny heads straight to the fridge to take out a glass bottle full of watermelon juice—Mark’s favorite. “It took half a year of renovations, but it’s finally here. And all mine.” He chuckles. “And half of yours during the school year. Your room’s set up, but just give me a couple of weeks to, you know, adjust.”

“Gotcha.” Mark grins. He’s not that much in a rush to move out, anyway. As much as he likes Johnny’s company, he still enjoys being around … people his age. (Not that he’s going to say that out loud because Johnny’s going to be dramatic about it.)

“How’s college treating you?” Johnny asks, leaning against the cool marble counter of the kitchen-slash-dining room.

Mark thinks about his psychology lectures. They’re interesting, but not enough to hold his attention for long periods of time. Unlike Jaemin who would hold his attention during a boring lecture, Mark would often drift off, fingers unintentionally pressing invisible piano keys. “Lectures are interesting,” he admits. “But I’m not sure if it’s the right career path for me.”

Johnny hums and nods. “Well, you’re in your freshman year. It’s not like you have it figured out yet.”

Mark sips his drink and focuses his gaze on the swirls of the tabletop. “I thought I had it … figured out, I mean.”

He feels Johnny scoot close, their elbows touching. “Sadly, kid, that’s not how it works,” he says. “Sometimes you think you have it figured out, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes all you need is a change of perspective, though. Or you just need a break from what you usually love to do.”

“You didn’t,” Mark points out. Ever since he knew Johnny, the older one had always been booked with performances in Korea and abroad. When he’s in Korea, he’s meeting with important people, writing his book, and mentoring young pianists.

Johnny shrugs. “_Sometimes_ is the operative word.” He wraps an arm around Mark’s shoulder. “I’m giving you the key to the piano room, just in case. I heard from Taeyong he booked you his practice room every Thursday.”

Mark was meant to talk to Johnny about that. “I want to try again. It’s been two years since Mom died, and I sort of miss playing the piano.”

He finally meets Johnny’s gaze, which is surprisingly soft. It’s that same expression when Mark finished performing for his first competition. Johnny is the first to rise on his feet, eyes glassy as he claps furiously. He was the only adult accompanying Mark at that time, his father away for work and his mother …

Well.

“You go at your own pace, okay?” Johnny pulls him close. “I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

Mark feels his eyes prickling, and he hides the fact that he’s _about to cry_ by nuzzling on Johnny’s shoulder.

He can’t play the piano for more than five minutes, Mark discovers.

He would play any music that pops in his mind, and the first few minutes are fine. He would close his eyes and get into the moment …

But once he gets into the moment, he would see _her_. The music would stop, his hands would still, and colors swirl back to gray, sometimes pitch black.

Mark sighs, pressing his forehead on the piano’s surface. It’s not like he’s in a hurry, but it’s also very frustrating for him. He wants colors to swirl as he play, wants to finish a piece without being reminded of his mother.

“You look terrible.”

It’s a sunny afternoon, and they are at the campus baseball park. This time, it’s Lucas who accompanies Mark as they watch Jaemin practice. The baseball season is about to start, therefore putting pressure on Jaemin. He could see his best friend’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he waits for the pitcher to throw the ball.

Jaemin manages to hit the ball, running towards the other bases. He had attended almost every baseball game Jaemin had participated in, but the rules still confuse him. Jaemin doesn’t mind, though, as long as he shows up in competitions.

Mark sighs and rubs his eyes. “Didn’t get enough sleep,” he mentions. Most nights are of him tossing and turning, dreams of playing the piano and pausing once his mother appears in his dreams.

“Sorry, man,” Lucas says, patting him on the shoulder. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He doesn’t really want to. He doesn’t want anyone to worry. Especially with Jaemin and Lucas having competitions coming up. He shakes his head. “It’s just studies, don’t worry about it,” he lies.

Lucas doesn’t look convinced, but he shrugs. “Okay, but you tell me when you’re having trouble, okay? I know you and Jaemin are best bros, but I’m part of the trio, too.”

Mark knows that, and his grateful. Lucas has saved their asses more than once. But he’s not ready to tell the truth to his friends, at least, not now. “How’s Donghyuck, by the way?” he asks, changing the subject. “His competition’s tomorrow.”

Lucas beams at the mention of Donghyuck’s name, and Mark feels his stomach twist. “He’s great! Excited for tomorrow,” he says. “He said he’s treating everyone to dinner after, whether he wins or not.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Mark asks, beside himself. The answer is already clear, but he had to make sure.

Lucas hums, rubbing his cheek. “He’s great!” he remarks. “I don’t know about going exclusive yet, but he’s fun to be with. And if we don’t end up exclusively dating, I think we both agree we can still be good friends. He likes Jaemin too much.” He grins. “You, too.”

Mark looks down at his shoes, his face flaming. “How do you have that kind of self-confidence about dating?” he asks. Sometimes he thinks it would be better to be someone like Lucas—tall, handsome, and full of charisma that anyone can just be charmed by him.

“I only have one principle to live by,” Lucas replies. “And that’s to be honest.”

He looks up and meets Lucas’ gaze. “Be honest?” he repeats.

The taller one shrugs. “In any relationship, honesty is the key. If you feel something for someone, it’s best to tell them.”

Mark sighs. The last time he had become so honest, it had all backfired on him. “I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.”

He feels Lucas shift closer. “I’ll tell you a secret,” he says. “Most of the time, I get scared, too.”

Mark raises an eyebrow at that. It’s hard to imagine Lucas Wong being nervous over anything, the only exceptions being when he’s facing Jaemin’s wrath. “You, scared? No way!”

“It’s true!” Lucas pouts. “There are just some things that you think are so scary to tell because, you know, your relationship with that person will change. But being honest is good because you and that person deserve that truth. You don’t want to live the rest of your life wondering what if you had told them the truth, right?”

Someone yells Jaemin’s name, giving Mark the perfect distraction to look at his friend. Jaemin was marching toward the players’ bench, arms outstretched in victory. He gets a high-five from one of his teammates, and Jaemin gives his blindingly bright smile.

“Got anything to get off your chest, Markie?”

He glances at Lucas and shakes his head. “Not at the moment, but thanks for asking.”

“Anytime, bro.”

They’re back at the Seoul Arts Center for the second round of preliminaries for the violin competition. Mark hears the whispers and sees the stares directed at him, but he takes them all in stride today. It doesn’t stop Jaemin and Lucas for being protective over him, though.

They were about to head into the auditorium when Lucas freezes on his tracks after receiving a text. He frowns, then looks up at them. “Hyuck says to stay put. He says it’s an emergency.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Is he okay?”

“No, I’m not.” They look to the direction of the voice to find Donghyuck emerging from the hallway where the contestants had disappeared to. He looks proper in his suit, but his expression says otherwise. “It’s Eunbin. She’s sick, and she can’t make it.”

“Oh no.” Lucas puts his hands on Donghyuck’s shoulders, in an attempt to comfort. “Do you have a backup accompanist?”

Donghyuck shakes his head. “I’ve asked the accompanists of current contestants, but no one’s willing. They said they won’t be able to keep up.”

Mark feels his fist clench at that. That was harsh of the pianists. Donghyuck is an amazing violinist, and all he wanted was to enjoy the performance.

“Have you tried asking the other pianists? You know, the ones not competing?”

“I tried. None of them’s available, and others aren’t willing to perform without properly rehears—”

“How about I become your accompanist?” Those words were at the tip of his tongue, and Mark honestly didn’t want to say it. But somehow, they slipped.

He feels everyone’s eyes on him, causing his face to go red. “You what?” Lucas blurts out.

“Whatever happened to not competing for a while?” Jaemin asks, eyes wide.

Mark gulps. “I-I know that, but I’m trying to help Donghyuck here.” There’s no turning back. “Look, I know the piece by memory, so I don’t need to practice. And I’m dressed for the occasion. Sort of.” He glances at his outfit, which is a dress shirt and black pants, which are … sort of acceptable, he supposes.

“What do you think, Donghyuck?” Lucas asks. “You’re the one who’s competing.”

Donghyuck is staring at him, biting his bottom lip. He knows about Mark choosing not to play for a long time and how he wants to ease into playing. “Mark, are you sure?” he asks, his voice small.

Mark doesn’t want to tell them about his mother, haunting him every time he plays. If it happens mid-performance, he’ll stop playing. Donghyuck may lose points, but as long as he keeps playing the violin, he wouldn’t be disqualified.

He nods. “Let’s do this.”

The backstage is as how Mark remembers it during a competition. There’s quiet tension all over the room where the contestants are waiting until it’s their turn to wait by the hallway. No one is speaking to each other in favor of playing the piece in imaginary keys or strings.

Mark has his phone open, idly scanning through the notes of _Rondo and Capriccioso_, just to be sure he has the notes right. Donghyuck is out there somewhere. He didn’t say where he would go, but Mark assumes it’s the bathroom.

“Are you okay?”

Mark looks up, and his head immediately connects with someone’s forehead. He yelps his pain, synchronized with Donghyuck’s own yelp of pain, both of which echo throughout the room. His face flushes when everyone’s eyes turn to them, although their attentions resume to whatever they’re doing. “Why are you crouched so closely to me?” he mumbles, rubbing the sore part of his head.

“Well, I’m sorry. I was trying to get your attention, but you were too spaced out to notice.” Donghyuck huffs, taking a seat beside him. “I’m serious, though. Are you okay? This is your first competition in, what, two years?”

“I don’t know.” Mark gulps, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. Competitions never scared him, because he usually won them, but now, accompanying someone …

Donghyuck places a hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “When I’m nervous, I think of Mozart.”

“Mozart?” Mark repeats, trying not to concentrate on the way his heartbeat is speeding.

“Remember he went on a journey?” Donghyuck asks, continuing when Mark nods. “Well, I have a feeling that Mozart is telling us from up the sky”—he points his finger upward for emphasis—”that we should go on a journey and not care about what happens today. After all, a man away from home need feel no shame.”

He blinks. “I don’t think Mozart said that …”

“Lee Donghyuck?” the marshal calls. She has an encouraging smile on her face. “You’re up next.”

Donghyuck stands up and extends his hand at Mark. “Come on, Metronome. Let’s go shame ourselves like crazy.”

He thinks he’s squeezing Donghyuck’s hand too tightly as they walk to the stage, but Donghyuck doesn’t seem to mind. He only lets go when they step out to applause and whispers. Mark tries not to pay attention to them as they both bow, and he takes his seat on the piano bench.

He closes his eyes and sighs as the crowd falls silent. “Mom, don’t show up in my head, please,” he whispers. His fingers settle on the keys, and he presses A minor, allowing Donghyuck to find the right key.

When Donghyuck looks over his shoulders and nods, Mark begins to play.

They start off slow, setting the foundation for the rest of the piece. Like before, Donghyuck starts calmly, as if readying himself for what’s to come.

The crowd cheers when Donghyuck breaks into his dynamic play, almost throwing Mark off-guard. This never happens in a recital, but then again, Donghyuck’s performance is unique. He mentally shakes his head and focuses once more on the piece.

But Mark should have known that performing a classical piece after two years of not diligently playing the piano would always bite him in the ass, as he presses the wrong key.

Then comes the voice in his head and a sharp pain on top of his hand.

_“For God’s sake, Mark, how many times have I told you, that’s not the correct key! Do it again!”_

A sharp breath, a pause, before he resumes playing. He presses the wrong key again.

_“Stupid child, no! Play it again!”_

Another sharp pain on top of his hand, and Mark closes his eyes, hands stilling on the keys. He can’t do this. Not anymore.

Hands shaking, he withdraws his hands from the keys and places him on his lap. His eyes sting, and he tries to ignore the whispers from the crowd. He whispers a silent apology for Donghyuck. It’s going to cost him points, but at least he isn’t disqualified.

Suddenly, the music from the violin stops, and the crowd’s murmurs got louder. Mark opens his eyes and looks at Donghyuck, who has set down his bow and is looking over his shoulder.

What’s strange is that he’s smiling. Mark had expected he would be mad, seeing that he had ruined his performance, but Donghyuck bears no ill will. “Again,” he says, plain and simple, before turning back to the audience and picking up where he left off.

Mark doesn’t understand. Donghyuck just became disqualified by stopping his performance to tell him to play again. Why is Donghyuck doing this?

Donghyuck told him “Again,” so he decides he should give it another shot. He listens intently to the violin music to remember where to begin, then dives into the music once more.

He remembers being ten, drowning out the lashes on his hand, the shrill reprimands of his mother. He closes his eyes, takes deep breaths, and lets the notes flow freely from his hands to the keys.

He just needs to finish, for Donghyuck, and that’s all that matters.

When it was over, there was silence all over the auditorium, punctuated by Jaemin and Lucas (and was that Johnny?) cheering. Then, the applause becomes louder and several people from the crowd stand up.

It was a disaster of a performance, if Mark says so himself. But for some reason, all the tension in his body has bled away, and his mother’s voice, and her ghost, disappears in his mind.

Donghyuck is suddenly hovering next to him, holding out his hand. “Gotta bow to the audience, right?”

“But …” Mark’s eyes widen as he glances at the audience, then back at Donghyuck. “But I screwed up.”

“But you managed to finish the piece.” Donghyuck’s smile widens. “And that’s something to be proud of. Come on, everyone’s waiting.”

Mark stands up and follows Donghyuck, finally gathering the courage to look at the crowd. Instead of the steely gaze of everyone in a typical recital, he was met with warm, sincere smiles, their hands continuing to clap for the both of them.

“That’s my best friend!” Jaemin and Lucas holler at the same time with Johnny’s “That’s my kid!” All three of them making hooting sounds that are embarrassing that, making Mark forget about his performance.

He feels a hand squeeze his, and when he looks up, he almost gasps. Donghyuck is beaming, brighter than the spotlight above them.

His heart races, but he was level-headed enough to return to reality, bowing in thanks to the crowd before them.

As expected, Donghyuck is disqualified and doesn’t move to the next round of the competition. But he doesn’t look pissed about it, even if Mark has apologized profusely.

“I told you, it’s fine,” Donghyuck tells him, waving a hand. It’s already close to nighttime, and Donghyuck decided to bring them to Full Sun Café to celebrate. Johnny volunteered to drive a couple of them in his car, and Donghyuck freaks out over being in the presence of _the _Johnny Suh.

Johnny looks for parking space, while they go ahead to the café, which is full of animated chatter by the time they arrive. Mark recognizes the boy with the charming eye smile who’s with Lucas in the football team sitting next to a boy with wiry hair. He thinks the latter looks familiar.

“Yo, Jeno!” Lucas makes long strides to the table, and the boy with the charming eye smile—Jeno—beams and stands up, giving Lucas a fist bump. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Had dinner with a classmate,” Jeno says, tilting his head to the direction of the boy with wiry hair. He looks at them, cheeks suddenly pink. “Getting dinner here?”

“Yeah. Came to support a friend at a competition.” Lucas grins, throwing an arm around Donghyuck’s waist. “By the way, guys, this is Jeno from the football team. Jeno, my best friends, Mark and Jaemin. And my date, Donghyuck.”

“Oh, Hyuckie, you’re right. You’re date’s hot.”

The voice didn’t come from Jeno nor the guy sitting next to him. Mark turns to the direction of the café entrance going to the guest house lobby and finds another boy standing by the doorway. He’s gorgeous, if Mark says so himself, and he finds it hard to peel his gaze off until the boy meets his eyes.

“Guys,” Donghyuck starts, “this is Renjun. He’s staying in the guest house, too. And that”—He gestures toward the boy with the wiry hair—“is Yangyang. You might have recognized him from the first round of the competition.”

“No wonder you look familiar!” Jaemin exclaims, moving forward to shake Yangyang’s hand before moving to Renjun.

Yangyang smiles sheepishly. “Didn’t move to the second round, unfortunately, but I did watch Hyuckie earlier.” He meets Mark’s gaze, his eyes widening. “And you’re Mark Lee, the piano genius.”

Jeno hums, sounding impressed. “Wow, you play the piano, too?”

“It was his comeback stage earlier,” Jaemin quips, grinning as he nudges Mark on the arm.

Jeno laughs so hard. It’s either Mark is so used to Jaemin’s comments or Jeno just found the comment really funny.

Somehow, Lucas and Jeno drag a couple of tables next to the other groups, resulting in a long row of tables in the café. Kun doesn’t seem to mind, serving them drinks and snacks as if they have all the stock in the world. Johnny drops by, but only to tell them to go ahead because he suddenly caught himself in an interesting conversation with Ten.

The group falls into comfortable chatter, and Mark gets lost in bits of classical music and sports and what courses they’re taking. He’s not used to being around large crowds, but this feels nice, comfortable …

He didn’t even notice that night had fallen. Soon, Jeno’s phone beeps, and his face brightens. “Lucas, dude, Haknyeon’s inviting us to a party at his place. Just a ten-minute walk from here. Wanna come?”

“Sounds fun.” Lucas beams, hand squeezing on Donghyuck’s shoulder. “It’s not your scene, but do you wanna come?”

Donghyuck hums, leaning against Lucas. “Would love to, but I’m exhausted from the competition.”

“That’s chill,” Jeno says, gently nudging Jaemin on the arm. “How about you, guys?”

Yangyang grins as he stands up. “Count me in.”

“Guess I could use some time to unwind after that hell of a biology exam.” Renjun sighs, standing up as well.

“Sure.” Jaemin looks at Mark. “I’m guessing you won’t?”

Mark is all about opening himself to other opportunities to socialize, but he’s also exhausted from the competition, so he shakes his head. That, and he’s supposed to pack his stuff and move to Johnny’s apartment tomorrow.

He could have sworn that Jaemin’s face fell, but it was quick to disappear.

He and Donghyuck remain at their places as they bid the others goodbye. Kun clears out their plates, mumbling something about Ten being too distracted, and Mark focuses on his straw as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. It’s suddenly quiet, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to face Donghyuck, especially not after …

“For the umpteenth time, Mark Lee, I’m not mad at you.”

Mark finally has the courage to tilt his head slightly, finding Donghyuck tucking his chin on his hand, an amused smile on his face. “Why did you stop for me?” he asks. “You could have just continued and not get disqualified.”

“I don’t know.”

He honestly doesn’t know what response he should be expecting, but it’s certainly not … this. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

It’s Donghyuck’s turn to blush, his gaze on his own drink. “It … just happened,” he says. “You were playing so well, and I didn’t want you to stop.” When he meets Mark’s gaze, his expression is softer. “I had fun, though. I’d play another piece with you, if we move on to the next round.”

It still doesn’t make sense to Mark. And the thought of playing with Donghyuck is attractive, but … “I stopped because …” He takes a deep breath. “I saw my mother.”

He remembers Lucas telling that it would feel so much better if he told the truth. If Donghyuck judges him for it, well … At least he’ll understand what happened back there.

“Like … she’s haunting you or something?” Donghyuck asks. He doesn’t sound judgmental or derisive, and Mark relaxes.

Mark nods. “When I would press the wrong key, she would hit my hand. Even if she was weak and in a wheelchair. She would ask me to play it again, and she’d hit me over and over because I kept screwing up. And sometimes she’d do it so frequently that I sort of have this out-of-body experience where I don’t feel like myself anymore, at least until she’d stop and hug me and tell me she was doing it because she loves me.”

The pause was stifling, and Mark sighs in relief when Donghyuck speaks up, slowly, “Does … anyone else know?”

He had never told this to Jaemin or Lucas. Not even Johnny or Taeyong. Because the marks disappear on his palm after a while, or sometimes he hides it with sweaters with sleeves too long for his arms. Sometimes gloves do the trick, because it’s perfectly acceptable for piano genius Mark Lee to take care of his hands, right?

He hears the scraping of the chair on the floor, and suddenly Donghyuck’s arm is close to his. The other boy sways his legs and directs his gaze to the door, where Kun had just switched the sign to “Closed.” He didn’t realize it was so late already. Johnny’s still nowhere to be seen, and for once, Mark is thankful.

“Thank you for telling me. It must have been hard for you.”

Mark feels something got caught in his throat, his vision suddenly blurry. And that was all it took for Donghyuck to wrap his arms around his shoulders and pull him close, without saying a word.

Johnny drops him home, and Mark takes the opportunity to ask if he wants to take a detour and grab a midnight snack. While munching on ice cream outside a GS25, Mark tells Johnny what he had told Donghyuck. The older one’s eyes are glassy, and he mumbles a series of apologies as he pulls Mark into a hug.

To be honest, Johnny has nothing to apologize for. He had always been Mark’s parent, though not biologically. Johnny was there to pick him up after school, teach him piano when his mother in the hospital, provide all the support he wishes his parents would have given him. Without Johnny by his side, Mark would have been worse off after his mother’s death.

Johnny tells him he’ll be picking Mark up early tomorrow so they can start moving, and maybe they’ll talk about Mark getting therapy.

It’s not the best way to end a night, but for some reason, Mark sleeps peacefully for the first time in a long time.

Mark’s relieved to see his best friend open the door to his apartment the next day. His hair is all over the place, and he’s rubbing his head on his temple, and he groans when Mark opens the curtains to let light in.

“Why’d you gotta be so mean?” Jaemin groans, flopping on his bed.

Mark looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow. He notices that his best friend was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. “You promised you and Lucas will help with moving my stuff at Johnny’s, remember?”

“Oh shit, you’re right.” Jaemin stands up quickly then face plants back on the bed, making the sound of a dying animal. “Can we get breakfast first? And some aspirin?”

Fortunately, Johnny brought his car and some takeout breakfast from the diner. Lucas arrives not long after, carrying aspirin. He looks like he hadn’t slept a wink, although he looks more put together than Jaemin is.

“Jeno and I had to bring Jaemin home,” Lucas explains as he helps Mark stock some of his books in a box. “Took all the drinks like he isn’t a lightweight.”

Mark sighs. It’s not that Jaemin’s a first timer when it comes to drinking—he and Lucas would sneak a tumbler of soju to school, in the guise of water, then drink at the rooftop—but they both know that Jaemin can’t handle too many drinks. “Glad you and Jeno got his back.”

“Yeah, he looked pretty stressed. Probably because the game is coming up and the coach is telling him something about letting him play, even if he’s just a rookie.”

Mark’s chest swells with pride. Jaemin has been working hard these past few days, and he’s happy that his best friend is getting the breakthrough he wants. “The game’s at the end of the month, right?”

“Yup. Jeno promised to watch. Renjun and Yangyang, too.”

He doesn’t miss the way Lucas’ cheeks flush at the mention of Renjun’s name. He raises an eyebrow at that. “How about Donghyuck?”

Lucas blinks. “Hyuckie. Right. He’s gonna be there, too. They live in the same place, remember?”

He’s still not sure what to feel about that blush on Lucas’ cheeks when Renjun is mentioned. It’s normal for Lucas’ attraction to shift to someone else, even if he’s dating someone. And he and Donghyuck have set expectations, so Mark shouldn’t have anything to worry about. But—

“You like Renjun, don’t you?”

He watches Lucas’ ears go red, and he knows he got his answer. Lucas splutters, almost dropping the box in his arms. “He’s cute,” he says slowly. “We hit it off last night. But Donghyuck …”

Well. “Talk to him,” he says. “It’s gonna be really awkward for them if they both end up fighting about you.”

“I know.” Lucas sighs. “It’s just … let me figure out about my feelings first.”

“Hyuck is my friend, too. I want the both of you to be happy, and I don’t want drama among our group.”

“Are you guys almost done there?” Johnny asks, already standing by the entrance. “Jaemin and I are ready to leave.”

They load the boxes at the back of Johnny’s car, and the older one drives them back to the apartment. This time, they get help from the complex’s staff, even if the four of them are perfectly capable of carrying the boxes on their own. Then again, it’s premium service for living in a place as grand as this.

The sun had already set by the time they finish unpacking and fixing Mark’s room. It’s twice the size of his previous room, and he has a bigger desk and a bigger shelf. Mark thinks it’s going to take him a couple of days to adjust to his new home, but he’s not too worried about that, not with Johnny being around.

Johnny orders dinner for them, and they end up being sprawled on the couch, eating pizza and chicken while they watch a movie from Netflix. Somehow, Mark tunes out in the middle of the movie, remembering last night at the café with Donghyuck.

Everyone gathered in this room are his favorite people, and none of them know about what happened. The thing is, after what happened last night, Mark feels that his best friends have the right to know. He doesn’t want to stop playing every few minutes because he sees his mother’s ghost. He just wants to play, to see colors every day.

He takes a deep breath and speaks up when everyone starts spacing out during the movie, the on-screen dialog merely a background noise.

“Guys, can I tell you something?”

He feels his face flame up as everyone’s attention turns to him. “What’s up, kiddo?” Johnny asks, though Mark can perfectly read what’s running through the older one’s mind.

He looks at Jaemin, whose eyebrows are furrowed in concern. Mark gulps and reaches for his best friend’s hand, because he feels like he wouldn’t be able to do this without some kind of support.

By the time he’s run out of words to say, Netflix has automatically played some comedy movie that Mark doesn’t care about now. His grip on Jaemin’s hand is tight, yet his best friend doesn’t comment on it. Lucas is sniffing loudly, and he suddenly moves forward and envelopes him in a hug.

“Thank you for telling us.” Lucas’ eyes are glistening when he pulls away.

“Is there anything we can do?” Jaemin asks, shifting close until he has an arm around Mark’s shoulders.

Johnny had mentioned a therapist last night. But right now, he smiles and shakes his head. “At the moment? Maybe water? All that talking got me thirsty.”

Lucas and Johnny are up in the kitchen, the latter saying something about getting ice cream, to which Mark chuckles. Jaemin never leaves his side, trying to offer him one of his bright smiles, at least, as bright as a tear-stricken expression would manage.

That night, Mark realizes how lucky he is to have Johnny, Jaemin, and Lucas by his side.

Mark has never been glad to step inside Full Sun Café after what feels like forever. Kun and Ten have changed the appearance of the café, the side of the walls that is not made of brick painted in pastel colors. Soft jazz is playing in the speakers, and Mark notices a poster by the billboard announcing an open call for the café’s Open Mic Night on Fridays.

It’s been a week since he had interacted with anyone other than Johnny, Jaemin, and Lucas, and it feels like he hadn’t seen Donghyuck in forever. The other boy had had a haircut and had dyed his hair to this dark reddish color that suits him well.

Donghyuck seems to be well, with how he spent at least half an hour catching Mark up on what he had missed while they haven’t seen each other. Taeyong took Donghyuck under his wing to help him polish on his technique while still retaining his dynamic playing style, Lucas had sort-of broken up with him and he’s totally fine by it, and how he’s dying with his academic workload.

Mark had been equally busy with his schoolwork, too, but it’s his therapy sessions with Dr. Kim Doyoung that had been keeping him most occupied. Dr. Kim had diagnosed him with post-traumatic stress disorder resulting from child abuse.

He’s not going to get any medication, at least for now. Dr. Kim has recommended that their sessions become more regular, so he can get Mark into the right mindset again. Which meant him receiving affirmations that what happened—especially three days before his mother’s death—was not his fault.

And Mark is starting to believe it, slowly. Sometimes memories come to him—of his mother’s shrill reprimands, mostly—and he has to condition himself that aside from making a mistake while playing, he had never done anything wrong.

Sometimes he needs more than self-affirmation, and that’s where Johnny, Jaemin, and Lucas come in. He’s slowly learning to take the initiative to talk to them about what he’s feeling, though, for some reason, the three of them have decided to check up on him every so often.

And Lucas is right—it does feel freeing to tell people how he feels.

“So you’re visiting a therapist now?” Donghyuck’s cheeks turn pink. “I mean, Jaemin told me because … I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“It’s okay.” Mark nods. “I wanted to focus on getting better, and …”

He also spent the time thinking about … whatever he is feeling about Donghyuck. He’s not yet sure, but he’s aware that those somersaults and butterflies in his stomach make Donghyuck different because he doesn’t feel that whenever he’s around Jaemin or Lucas or their other friends.

Maybe he’ll discuss it with Dr. Kim someday. Or Johnny.

“You look … better.” Donghyuck smiles. “I mean, there’s an aura around you that’s more relaxed than before.”

Mark grins, his chest warm and fuzzy. “I guess the therapy is working? I mean, it’s just been a couple of weeks. I feel bad for missing the baseball game, though, even if Jaemin said it’s fine.”

“I’m sure Jaemin means it.” Donghyuck pats his hand, and Mark’s heart skips a beat. “Anyway, summer vacation’s almost there. Any plans?”

The plan was to go home for the holidays with Jaemin and Lucas, but that seemed unlikely. Jaemin and Lucas will be going on their respective team’s training clubs. Mark would have wanted to go, but he knows his father wouldn’t be home until Chuseok. At least Johnny promised they would go out somewhere, though he’s still figuring out where.

He tells Donghyuck that much. “How about you?” he asks. “Going home to your family?”

Donghyuck hums, his gaze avoiding Mark’s. “Nah, I’m staying here. Family’s out of the country.” A long pause before his expression brightens. “We should hang out.”

Mark smiles. “I’d like that.”

Donghyuck downright beams, and that’s when Mark finally figures it out, sort of. Maybe it’s more of an inkling, but he knows the conclusion is leading toward something now.

It had been always that way, he realizes, ever since he knew of Donghyuck’s existence that spring day.

As he watches Donghyuck ramble about what they should do for the summer, Mark thinks,  _ yeah, this is probably it _ . And with two months of getting to know Donghyuck more, he knows it’s going to be an interesting summer.

He can’t wait.


End file.
